Perhaps the greatest of all recordings of the work, spacious, involved, profoundly human. So persuasive is Giulini's interpretation, it makes it almost impossible to take seriously the attempt at a more detached, monumental approach found in Daniel Barenboim's relatively recent Teldec performance. Giulini's ability to convey fervour without sentimentality is little short of miraculous, and it's clear from the way the early stages of the first movement effortlessly project an ideal balance between the lyrical and the dramatic that this reading will be exceptional. The recording might not have the dynamic range of current digital issues, and resonance can sound rather artificial in louder passages. There's also an obtrusive extension of the trumpet triplets seven bars before the end of the first movement.
But such things count for less than nothing in the face of a performance which culminates in a finale of such glowing spontaneity you could almost believe that the orchestra are playing it for the first time, and that neither they (nor any other orchestra) will ever play it better.
A fuller and more authentic text of the symphony is available at super-bargain price in Georg Tintner's fine account of the 1872 edition (on Naxos; reviewed above). Serious collectors will need both. Yet the last thing you're likely to feel after hearing Giulini is that there's something inauthentic about this Bruckner.
Matters musicological fade to vanishing point, given such communicative genius.

The account unites ardent tonal beauty with an exhilaration that makes the major-key conclusion as joyous and immediate as one could ever imagine.